


Head Over Heel

by crookedfingers



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Boot Worship, Established Relationship, Gabriel Reyes Gets Stepped On, Horny For Halloween, M/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, implied erectile dysfunction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-08-04 17:06:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16350701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookedfingers/pseuds/crookedfingers
Summary: Getting Gabriel onto his knees is easy.





	Head Over Heel

**Author's Note:**

> Don't try this at home.

Getting Gabriel to his knees is easy.

Jack spreads his legs apart, bounces his heels, and says, “Goddamn pants are too tight. Can you help me with these?”

And down he goes.

Jack thought they’d get to this point sooner, really. Gabriel just wants an excuse to touch. He’s wanted it all night. The Halloween party always gets him like this, eager and enthused. And his costume this year is a patented Gabriel Reyes magnet: a low-cut shirt, and pants that fit tighter than he normally likes, and a mask. And the boots.

The boots are ridiculous. They don’t match his outfit. All the rest of him is ragged and worn, but the boots are stiff and new, more “goth” than “grunge.” They have spikes. They _light up_.

Gabriel is wild about them.

He's the one who’d picked them out, and he's the one who’d helped Jack put them on before the party, shamelessly feeling them up in the process. Jack'd had… some idea of what was going through his mind, and he was a man who liked to oblige. They’d exchanged appraising looks throughout the evening.

But the moment they’d gotten back to his quarters and Gabriel had put a hand right into his shirt, Athena had alerted him about an urgent call that had just come to his direct line. Apparently it couldn’t wait.

So he’d pulled off his mask and sat down to deal with it. It’d been a long call, and by the time he was finished, Gabriel had gotten bored enough to shower and change out of his own costume into a hoodie and an old pair of pants worn through through at the knees.

Not that he didn’t like Gabriel’s costume, but Jack likes him best his way, when he’s casual and comfortable.

And _this_ way, when he’s close and responsive, kneeling on his calves at Jack's feet, pulling one of the boots into his lap. He doesn’t go for the laces right away. He runs a hand all the way up the shaft of the boot and tucks a finger into the collar, rechecking the fit. “They weren’t too tight?”

Jack shrugs. “Didn’t hurt too bad, but they’re still stiff. Feel for yourself.”

He extends his leg and pushes the thick sole right up against Gabriel’s stomach and pelvis. Gabriel’s eyes snap up to meet his. So he taps his heel again. And winks.

Things progress naturally from there. Gabriel’s expression turns watchful and anticipatory. Jack drops his foot lower, between Gabriel’s legs, and Gabriel curls over, chin coming to rest on his knee. He breathes, “ _Fuck_.” His hips hitch forward.

Jack has to be careful. There are sharp protrusions not only on the calf of the boot but on the toe and heel, as well, and the whole of the boot is too heavy and rigid to let him feel what he’s doing or give him any delicate control. He cups the back of Gabriel’s head, stroking his neck and holding him in place. Gabriel clutches at his leg and leans heavily into him.

The trust Gabriel puts him in him in moments like this always feels like a privilege.

And he’s going to put it to good use.

Jack lifts his other leg, sets the sole of the boot against Gabriel’s shoulder, and pushes. Gabriel goes back in slow motion, catching himself on his hands, then sinking onto his elbows as Jack continues to push, push, push. By the time Gabriel reclines all the way onto his back, his shoulder has moved out of Jack’s range. He places his foot onto the floor. His other foot is still resting against Gabriel's groin.

Gabriel’s knees are folded up, his legs slightly parted. 

“Open up,” he says, and Gabriel groans as he lets his thighs fall wider.

Gabriel’s cock his hard under his boot. He nudges it delicately, and Gabriel brings both hands to his face and shoves his fists into his eye sockets, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Hands flat,” he rumbles.

Gabriel forces his hands away from his face with a jerky motion. Though Jack didn’t ask him to do it, he brings them together over his head and crosses his wrists.

Jack says, “Atta boy,” with warm fondness, and Gabriel groans again, his hips pushing up.

“Ahh, _f_ _uck_. I can… More…”

“Yeah?” Jack rocks his foot slowly, bearing down a little harder. Gabriel tosses his head, arching. He’s shut his eyes. He’s begun to sweat, just enough for Jack to see it shining along his neck. He shivers when Jack steps on his erection, so that’s what he continues to do, stepping harder and harder until Gabriel writhes under him, sometimes easing up on the pressure just long enough to let Gabriel’s wound-tight body start to relax before he increases the force all over again. It’s… calming, in a way, to have Gabriel’s willing body laid out at his feet while he sits comfortably and just enjoys the sight. He barely has to put in any effort at all to get reactions out of Gabriel right now. A pleasing rarity.

He doesn’t entirely understand this. Why Gabriel likes this. But he doesn’t have to understand: it’s enough to know that it makes Gabriel feel good, and that it’s something he can give.

He pushes the side of the boot against the inside of Gabriel’s thigh, pressing the point of one of the spikes into the muscle. Gabriel inhales sharply through his nose, his legs jerking farther apart before he can catch himself. Jack pivots his foot to chase one of them. This time, instead of digging the spike in, he uses a light stroking motion. Up and down, up and down. He likes watching the muscles of Gabriel’s leg and stomach jump and quiver.

Then he leans forward, moving his foot back to tap one more time on Gabriel’s cock. “Think you can come?”

Gabriel’s eyes open. His pupils are wide at first, then shrink slightly as they adjust to the light. Gabriel looks him full in the face, something raw behind his eyes.

“I don’t know.”

The admission is difficult. Gabriel’s face tightens up, a shadow forming between his eyebrows. Sometimes Gabriel would rather suffer in ways that he already knows than spoil an experience by trying something that might leave him unsatisfied. He’ll let himself be hurt, be teased, be tormented, but he won’t let himself take pleasure that might not be _enough_.

Jack weighs his response within himself.

Tonight he’s going to be cruel. That’s what he’s dressed up for, after all.

“I think you can,” he says, low. “Yeah. I think you can.”

They’ll both be embarrassed if he’s wrong—but where would their relationship be without the risk? He’s willing to stick his neck out for this.

He takes up the mask from his Halloween costume, set aside during the call, and fixes it into place.

It’s not ideal for this: it’s hard to see through, and it makes humidity build up against his face. But Gabriel’s cock noticeably twitches as he stands to his full height, rolling his shoulders.

He keeps nearly all of his weight on one foot as he rises, applying only enough pressure against Gabriel’s groin to hold his attention. He intensifies his own breath, making it rough and loud enough to hear through the mask.

Then he starts to walk his way up Gabriel’s body, one foot on either side of him, until he’s got one boot beside Gabriel’s chest and the other level with his head.

“You want it?” He shifts his foot sideways, grazing one of the front spikes ever so gently against the edge of Gabriel’s jaw. Gabriel nods once, short and jerky. He brings one of his hands down from its place over the top of his head and hooks it around the ankle of the boot beside him. Then he slowly turns his face toward the boot and brushes his lips against it. Jack growls approvingly, and Gabriel wets his mouth and does it again, lips parted, pink tongue coming forward to touch the boot. Jack holds very still and lets Gabriel work himself up, grazing his mouth and nose and chin against the ankle of the boot until he grows bold enough to give it a full lick.

Jack’s breath catches a little, the base of his throat going warm. Having his boots licked isn’t something that specifically arouses him, but watching Gabriel let go of himself and get into the heat of the moment is.

Gabriel does it again. The first lick was fast, but the second one is slow and broad.

“Come on,” Jack whispers. “You like this, don’t you? Show me. Show me how much.”

Gabriel glances at him sidelong, eyes dark and heavy. Above his head, his other hand clenches. Then he lifts it from the floor and reaches down, down. Past his shoulder, his chest, his stomach. Jack hears a belt open, a zipper open. He knows when Gabriel starts to touch himself from the way his mouth opens a little wider before he sets the edges of his teeth against the boot, inhaling heavily. There’s slight movement at his shoulder.

Gabriel’s eyes slide shut, but he doesn’t stop kissing the boot. Jack is rarely in the position to _watch_ like this, able to see the look on Gabriel’s face and the way he moves his lips and jaw. It feels like a privilege to witness. Gabriel is focused, and diligent, and beautiful.

It makes Jack want to push him.

He picks up his other foot, hovers it for an instant over Gabriel’s chest, and then steps down. Lightly. Just resting the boot there enough to make himself known to Gabriel.

Gabriel’s eyes instantly reopen and lock onto him. Jack doesn’t say anything. He just bears down a little harder. Gabriel swallows. And then he presses a firm, closed-mouth kiss to the boot. Permission to continue.

Slowly, Jack adds more of his weight. He feels the gradual compression of Gabriel’s ribs and hears his breath start to become more labored. This is risky. By the time Gabriel responds to any pain, it’ll already be past the point where he’s been injured. But Jack keeps going, trusting his own instincts for knowing when to stop.

He reaches a point of equilibrium a moment later, his weight evenly distributed between both feet. Gabriel seems to be—fine. Still breathing slowly but regularly. He’s nuzzled up against the boot, still clutching it.

So he keeps going. He starts to transfer more of his weight over, increasing the pressure on Gabriel’s chest. Gabriel’s brow furrows; he pinches his lips together and just presses his mouth against the boot like he’s trying to stifle himself, even though he isn’t making any sound. His arm keeps pumping.

Alright. Alright.

Little by little, Jack moves all his body weight onto one leg. Onto Gabriel’s sturdy chest. Gabriel squirms, his hips rising.

“Jack,” he whispers.

That’s a good sign. He can still talk.

Jack lifts his other foot off the floor. Gabriel hangs onto it for a second or two before his hand falls away. He brings the hand to his face and covers it for an instant before he remembers that he’s not supposed to and jerks it away again. It falls limply to the floor.

Jack brings the tip of the boot to Gabriel’s chin and pushes. Gabriel lets his head go back until his neck is stretched out, unprotected. Delicately, Jack sets one of the spikes against the side of his throat and pushes, dimpling the skin. The spike is sharp enough to hurt, but not sharp enough to pierce the skin without more force than would be comfortable or enjoyable for either of them.

But Jack does push a little more. A little more. Pushes until the skin pales where blood is forced away from the surface. Gabriel’s lips pull back, baring his teeth. Alright; that’s enough. Easing the pressure, Jack traces his way along Gabriel’s neck and the underside of his jaw, scratching a faint line into his skin, and Gabriel lets out a long, thready breath. On the floor his hand clenches and relaxes like a beating heart, exposed.

Is Gabriel close? He stops himself from asking. _Don’t make him think about it._

Jack lifts the boot from Gabriel’s neck. He pauses like that for a half-second, then brushes the shell of Gabriel’s ear. And then he digs the boot against Gabriel’s cheek. Gabriel’s head turns with the force, gradually, until the side of his face is to the floor. Jack grinds down, digging into Gabriel’s cheek and jaw, the meat of his face.

“Not satisfied yet?” he growls, pivoting his heel back and forth. “You want everyone to see you in the morning with the tread of my boots stamped all over your face?”

Gabriel tenses under him, and holds his breath, and Jack’s center of balance wavers as Gabriel’s hips jerk once, then once more.

Ah. There it is. 

Warmth and heaviness flow into his extremities, like the feeling of alcohol hitting his bloodstream. He holds Gabriel pinned for another second or two, then quickly steps off—face first, then chest. Gabriel gives a tiny grunt. There are, indeed, faint impressions on his face. 

“You ate too much candy tonight,” he mumbles, rubbing his chest. “Fuck.”

Jack squats next to him. He glances down Gabriel’s body—his hoodie rucked up, come streaking his belly, cock still thick in his hand as it starts to soften—then up at his face, slack and content. Jack feels syrupy and satisfied, as though he’s coming down from an orgasm, himself. He rocks on his heels.

“Oh, I was heavy because of the candy, huh? Not the boots?”

“No… No… The boots were perfect.”

“Oh?” He smiles, though Gabriel can’t see it, then hesitates. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Gabriel shakes his head. “You didn’t hurt me.”

“Good. Because the boots aren’t the only things that are perfect.” He pats Gabriel’s face fondly.

Gabriel wrinkles his nose in disgust and knocks his hand away. “Cutesy talk is bad enough when you’re not wearing a fucking serial killer mask.”

He laughs, dropping his voice to an even lower register: “Do you want me to take it off?”

Gabriel pauses, eyes scanning him up and down for a long moment. Then he says, “Not yet,” and lunges up to grab Jack by the neck, and drags him to the floor to stay for a little while longer.


End file.
